


Light the sky and hold on tight (the world is burning down)

by AlannasTara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feel-good, Feels, Fluff, Nine Lives Missing Moments Fanfiction Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/pseuds/AlannasTara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Carol blushed and 1 time she didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light the sky and hold on tight (the world is burning down)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nine Lives "Missing Moments" Fanfiction Challenge. 
> 
> Title taken from the song, " _Sunny Came Home_ " by Shawn Colvin. The song describes a woman who burns down her home to escape her past and I felt it was oddly appropriate for Carol and her personal evolution.
> 
> Huge thanks to Meeshie, Whoswhatsitwhich, and Fairiesmasquerade for betaing this for me! I couldn't do it without you ladies! *muah*

_ Oh, light the sky and hold on tight  _

_ the world is burning down _

_ she's out there on her own and she's alright _

 

* * *

 

 

#1

 

“Try it again, steady your wrist.” 

 

Daryl moved behind Carol, adjusting her arms to properly grip the rifle. 

 

“It’s heavy,” Carol said, huffing as she struggled to maintain her stance.  

 

“We’ll work on your lifting some weights or something to build up your strength, but right now that ain’t as pressing,” Daryl instructed. “Now, aim. Exhale, squeeze. Just like I showed you.”

 

His breath on the back of her neck tickled the fine hairs of her nape, a shudder passing through her. Her arm wavered just as she pulled the trigger, and the shot buried into the thick wood of the fence post beneath the target. The tin can wobbled but didn’t fall, mocking her, announcing to all who were watching that she was a failure at one more thing. 

 

“Dammit!” She muttered in frustration, embarrassment staining her cheeks and ears red. 

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Ya can’t expect you’re gonna start out bein’ Annie Oakley,” Daryl smirked as he took the rifle and demonstrated how to reload, before handing the rifle back to her to walk through the steps. 

 

“Pull the bolt back,” she muttered to herself. “Place the round in the breech. Slide the bolt forward, locking into place.” She went through each of the steps he outlined and then prepared to aim for the target again. 

 

“You remember the stance I showed you?” Daryl asked, waiting patiently as she lined herself up, gripping the guard and locking the butt of the gun into her shoulder. “Good, good. Now just like before…,” he trailed off, quietly observing her steely determination as he stood off to the side. 

 

_ Fwingt! _

 

The tin can flew off the post, spinning end over end through the air, the bullet having just grazed the top of the lid. 

 

Carol let out a little whoop of excitement, her smile lighting up her face, and turned to Daryl, pleased with hitting her intended target.  

 

“Nice shootin,’” he said, his mouth turned up in the slightest resemblance of what some  _ may _ have construed as a smile. 

 

“Well,” Carol paused, looking down the field at the empty fence, then straightening her shoulders and looking up at him, “I had a really good instructor.”

 

His eyes darted off to the side and then dropped to the ground, watching as he scuffed his boots in the dust. When he looked up his cheeks were reddened, though from the burn of the sun or the heat of embarrassment she couldn’t tell. 

 

“Ain’t nothin.’” 

 

* * *

 

#2

 

“Put your hand up here.” Daryl lifted her palm and placed it against his chest bone. “And with your knife hand aim here or here,” he said, as he motioned to his eye socket and temple. “Plunge deep enough to hit the brain, but not so deep you get your knife stuck in the bone, or you're goin’ down with him.”

 

Carol nodded, absorbing each instruction, studiously mimicking his gestures. 

 

“Now, with this hand on the chest, push off. That momentum’s gonna help you pull the knife out and drop the geek backwards, ‘stead of falling forward with him or having him topple over on ya.” 

 

Carol pushed her hand against his torso, feeling the lean muscle flex and ripple beneath her sweaty palm. He remained standing and when she looked up at him he smirked at her. 

 

“That all ya got, woman? Put your back into it,” he said, motioning her forward again. 

 

“You're the one who said we'd try some weight-lifting to build up my strength,” she huffed. “I don't see any weights around here, do you?” Carol groaned as she attempted to shove him back again. 

 

“Need some more protein in our diet, to help build muscle, before we go wasting all them calories on weight-lifting,” he said, grunting as she pushed him, harder this time, rocking him back on his heels. “Besides, I think you're getting the hang of it there, Rocky.” 

 

Carol blushed at what was his version of praise. Sparsely given, she appreciated it all the more when he doled it out, knowing that he wasn't just blowing smoke up her ass. If he said she was doing a good job, he meant it. 

 

“I feel like I should be hearing  _ ‘Eye of the Tiger _ ’ playing in the background or something,” Carol said, looking up at him, the gleam of sweat shining on her forehead and dampening her curls. She saw the pride of her accomplishment reflected back in his eyes.

 

He chuckled. 

 

“Stop.” 

 

* * *

 

 

#3

 

“Whatcha got?” Daryl asked, peering over Carol’s shoulder as she stood by her bunk.

 

“Just a book I found,” Carol said, shrugging as she tried to hide the cover.

 

“To Kill a Mockingbird?”

 

“It was always one of my favorites. I did a book report in high school on it. It didn’t go over so well at the time, given the subject matter, but it always stuck with me.”

 

Her voice was quiet, thoughtful, as if she were living those memories right now, not standing in a dank, dark prison cell.

 

“That the one with Boo? A courtroom trial or somethin’?” Daryl asked, trying to mask his knowledge and play it off like he didn’t know what he was talking about, but Carol saw the bright light of interest in his gaze when she turned to answer him.

 

“Yeah. Controversial reading material at best when I was in school.” 

 

“I imagine so. My ol’ man woulda shit the bed if I’d brought that home,” Daryl scoffed, his body turning inwards, protecting himself from unseen memories at the mere mention of his past. 

 

“You read it?” Carol asked. She longed to know more, to peel back another layer of this man who was so much more than the facade he used as a defense mechanism. 

 

“Yep, spent a lot of time readin,’ when I wasn’t huntin,’ that is,” he said with a shrug. 

 

“I always liked…,” he trailed off, sinking down on the bottom bunk and leaning into the metal frame. His face scrunched up, wrinkling his brow, before continuing, like he was struggling to get the words out right. 

 

“It felt like I was going somewhere. Never went anywhere before. Hell, I never even been outside of Georgia. But when I was readin’ those stories, it felt like...like I was somewhere else for a while, and anywhere else was better than where I was.” 

 

Carol nodded, sitting down next to him on the thin mattress, the wrinkled paperback forgotten on the bed between them. 

 

“I used to take Sophia to school in the morning, after Ed left for work, and then I would go to the library and check out a book to read. He never would’ve let me spend his ‘hard-earned paycheck’ on frivolous things like books.” Carol shook her head, like she was shaking off the ghost of the man she’d been shackled to for years. 

 

“I’d get me and Sophia both a book. I’d read in between cleaning and cooking and all the other things I had to do, and then at night I would read to her before bed. Stories of princesses and fairytales and shiny knights on horses coming to rescue the damsel in distress,” she said, with a little snort of derision.

 

Daryl huffed a quiet laugh, and Carol smiled, a tiny upturn of her lips, as she gave him a side glance. 

 

“Books were my favorite way to escape,” Carol sighed, sadness dripping from her next words. “My only escape.” 

 

“Hey,” Daryl said, bumping her shoulder with his own.

 

Carol looked over at him, waiting for him to continue while he nipped at his lower lip. 

 

“You ain’t no damsel in distress no more. Tough as nails.” He side-eyed her with a smirk, before adding, “Threatenin’ to slit people’s throats and shit.” 

 

Carol blinked and her mouth dropped open, shock written on her face, her chest and neck flushing red. 

 

“Y-you know about that?” Her voice cracked, squeaking at the worst possible moment, causing her to cheeks to darken even further, a nice scarlet shade blooming across her skin now. 

 

“Yep. I  _ heard _ that,” he said, with a chuckle. “An’ people think I’m the badass...” 

 

“Stop.” 

 

* * *

  
  


#4

 

He sucked each of his fingers.  _ Pop. Pop. Pop.  _

 

He licked his thumb.  _ Slurp. _

 

Carol fanned herself absentmindedly with the spatula she was using to flip the venison. He had to know what he was doing when he did that. It looked sinful. Purely sinful. 

 

She tore her attention away from the scene at the table, and turned it to making sure the food didn't burn. The last thing she needed was to ruin one of the few sources of protein they got in their diets nowadays. 

 

Steam rose from the grill, smoke making her eyes water as she turned the strips of meat. The heat from the cooking surface combined with the path her thoughts were taking caused her skin to burn, her face turning blood red. 

 

Turning the back of her wrist she dabbed at her brow and cheeks, trying to cool her flesh. Dr. S noticed of course, his mind going first to possible medical causes.

 

“You okay, Carol?”

 

His attention was fixed on her and his raised voice drew looks from several people seated on the wooden benches. Including the one person who was the source of her flushed skin. 

 

Of course. 

 

“I'm fine, Dr. S. It's just the heat over here by the grill,” Carol responded, hoping to forestall any further inquiries. 

 

It didn’t work. 

 

Daryl was up on his feet, approaching the grill, still sucking the flavor off of his fingers. 

 

“Ya alright? Need me to get ya somethin’? Some water?”

 

She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze was stuck on his middle finger that was enclosed in his mouth, lips wrapped around it, sucking noisily. He removed it slowly, and it finally slipped free with a juicy, wet sounding  _ pop! _

 

“Yeah,” Carol answered, coughing to clear her throat. “That’s just what I need.  A  _ tall drink of water. _ ” 

 

* * *

  
  


#5

 

Her face was buried in her pillow, trying to stifle the moans that reverberated off the concrete walls, echoing in the relative stillness of the empty cell block. Most were up and about, doing their daily chores, and the rest had gone with Daryl and Glenn on a run for supplies. 

 

Carol punched the pillow in front of her that she was cradling to her abdomen, and smooshed the one between her knees, trying to fluff it up and relieve the pain in her lower back. Her cramps had come on with a vengeance this month. Probably to make up for the past two months she’d skipped. Menopause was funny that way. Except it wasn’t funny. 

 

At all.

 

Another wave of pain as a cramp rolled through her pelvic region. The tears leaked out from between her scrunched up eyelids, as she rocked gently, back and forth. It was so much worse with no ibuprofen to ease the pain. She was halfway tempted to try to crawl to the showers and stand under the spray, but it just wasn’t worth it for only halfway lukewarm water. 

 

If she could just hang on until the run crew got back, maybe they would have scored some pain medicine of some kind. Anything to take the edge off. 

 

She didn’t recall dozing off, maybe she’d simply been delirious, but the next sound to penetrate her awareness was that of a familiar pair of boots. Steps too light and sure-footed to belong to anyone but Daryl. She tugged the quilt up over her waist, and looked up to see his familiar shaggy hair peering into the cell. 

 

“Hey,” Daryl said quietly, gently. “How ya feelin’?” 

 

“Like death warmed over,” she answered, her voice hoarse as she gritted her teeth. 

 

He looked down at his feet, biting his lip for a minute before glancing back up at her. 

 

“Gotcha some stuff while we was out there,” he offered, holding up a dark gray plastic bag that looked like it was from a pharmacy or something, a large RX sign imprinted on the outside. 

 

She held up her hand to motion him in, and he stepped over to the side of her bed, kneeling and sliding his pack off his back in one smooth motion. 

 

“What’d you get? Please tell me it’s some ibuprofen,” she pleaded, hoping beyond hope that he’d found some. 

 

“Uhhh, well, I found something. I thought it might help ya more.” He looked through the bag, reached in and pulled out a small blue box, and passed it to her, not quite meeting her eyes as he did so. 

 

She read the all too familiar lettering on the box, and her heart skipped a beat. She looked up at him and gave him the biggest smile she could muster under the circumstances, more tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. 

 

“How’d you know?” 

 

“Pffft. I know things,” he said as he tapped the side of his head. “I'm observant, remember?” 

 

He handed her a bottle of water and took the box of Midol from her, ripping open the box after reading the dosing instructions. Giving her two pills, he set the rest on the nightstand beside her, grabbed up his pack, and told her he’d be right back. 

 

She swallowed the medicine, all the while thinking to herself how thoughtful a man Daryl was, and just how lucky she was to find him in this hellish landscape of a world that they now inhabited. Few minutes passed and soon he was coming back into the cell, the front of his shirt and arms now dripping wet. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

“Nothin’,” he grunted, and from behind his back he pulled a large, red, rubber water bottle--the old fashioned kind with a stopper on the end. “Jus’ got into a tussle with this thing here, but I won the fight,” he said with a self-deprecating smirk. 

 

“Daryl? Is that…?” 

 

“I figured it might help. I mean, Maggie said that it might…,” he trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed at the fact that he’d talked to the other woman about it. He handed the heated water bottle down to her. 

 

Carol looked up at him in disbelief. How was he even real? 

 

“You went to all that trouble...did that for me?” 

 

He looked flustered at the question and stared down at his boots again, scuffing them against the dusty stone floors. 

 

“Well...yeah.” He answered, softly. 

 

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying again at this display of generosity and pure, unselfish, loving kindness. She placed the water bottle against her lower back and rolled to her other side, keeping it pressed between her and a pillow, so she could face Daryl. 

 

“Thank you, Daryl. I can’t...you don’t have any idea how much this means to me.” Her voice was quiet, filled with a tremoring that told just how close she was to losing her composure completely. 

 

“That ain’t all. Saved the best for last.” 

 

He bypassed the thanks, uncomfortable with the praise, and pulled a dark brown wrapper from his vest pocket. He tossed it on the bed in front of her, distracting her from what she’d just said.  

 

“Chocolate? You found CHOCOLATE?” Her voice raised and he shushed her. 

 

“You best keep that quiet unless ya want the rest of those yahoos down there hounding you for it.” 

 

She was already ripping into the package and stuffing pieces of chocolate into her mouth. 

 

“Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm,” she moaned loudly, as her tastebuds enjoyed a sweet treat they’d been denied for months. 

 

“You need me to leave the two of you alone?” Daryl asked, snickering. “You’re showing that candy bar a  _ really _ good time.”

 

She flushed, her face turning red, her lips smudged with chocolate. Ignoring the scarlet creeping up her neck, she looked up at him and sucked the melted candy off the end of her fingertips, one at a time.

 

Daryl just stared at her, his voice harsh and throaty when he next he spoke.

 

“Ya gotta quit that.” 

 

* * *

 

+1:

 

Carol trudged through the cell block, heading for her bunk. All she wanted was a shower and to rid herself of the layers of muck covering her; her thanks for covering the fences all afternoon. Almost the entire prison had been out there at one point, trying to keep the fences from coming down under the weight of the herd. The cull crew just hadn’t been enough to keep up with the onslaught. 

 

She’d been one of the last ones to come in, thanks to some problems with the schedule for the week. Zach wanted to be on rotation with Beth more often, and Carl wanted off of garden duty. Then there was the inventory that needed signed off on before the next run crew went out, and the menu needed approved for tomorrow’s meals. She was exhausted. She loved it though because she was doing what she enjoyed, and she ended each day feeling accomplished, knowing she was instrumental in helping to run their home. 

 

Grabbing her shower caddy, towel, and her sleep clothes, she headed off towards the shower room. It was late enough now that most people should already be done, and she wouldn’t have to wait for a turn. 

 

She hummed a little tune as she made her way through the dark hallways, her voice echoing softly against the stone walls. 

 

Carol pushed open the heavy steel door to the shower room, humidity hitting her in the face almost immediately like a concrete wall, and was brought up short by the sound of running water and spray hitting the floor. 

 

“Hello?” She called out. “Someone down here?” She walked around the corner of the sink trough to the curtained off stalls. 

 

There was the clunking sound of rubber and plastic meeting tile, and she heard a thump, a curse and the water was shut off.

 

The curtain ripped back and Carol jumped in surprise. Standing in front of her was a very wet, very naked, very red-faced Daryl Dixon, holding a towel around his waist.  

 

“Oooh!” She exclaimed, placing her hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. “I didn’t think anyone’d be down here. Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you,” she said, finally averting her eyes from his muscled chest and arms, trying to suppress a smile. 

 

“Sorry?” He huffed, gripping the towel tighter around his hips, hunching his shoulders inward as if by making himself appear smaller, he could cover himself more. “Yeah, you sure look sorry to me,” he griped, sarcastically, the tips of his ears reddening the longer they stood there. 

 

He squinted his eyes, glaring at her. “Somethin’ funny?” 

 

She lost the battle against her laughter, and snorted, surprising even herself, as she answered him. 

 

“It’s just...you have the worst farmer’s tan I’ve ever seen.” Her peals of laughter rang out, drowning out his growled response as he shouldered by her, still gripping his towel.  

 

“Stahp.” 

  
  



End file.
